AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What?” I grunt. Shelley glances over, eyes wide, shrugging.
“This is kind of nicer than my date with Alex.” Smugness surges through me. Fucking A, it is. “Even though it’s not a date!” she blurts out, her cheeks flaming red. What the fuck makes her think it’s not a date? She just said it was nicer than the one that preppy Pinedale prick took her on.
I glower down at her. “It’s a date, kid.”
Shelley flushes even redder, her eyes dropping back to her plate. I catch her big, goofy smile before she can duck her head to hide it.
“Okay,” she whispers. I smirk at the empty booth across from us, picking up my burger and eating it one-handed, determined to keep my arm around her shoulders. Why the fuck would she think us having a meal together isn’t a date? Was I supposed to ask her, “will you go on a date with me” first? What are we? Fourteen?
Chapter 17
SHELLEY
We’re on a date? That’s…not what I was expecting. I keep my eyes locked on my plate, picking at my meal. It’s kind of sweet that he brought me on a date because that blond biker at the clubhouse was hitting on me.
It tickled me pink that Merch got all caveman about it. I guess it’s not just locking me in his house where he’s weird like that.
Merch might not want to have to explain, but I’m not an idiot, and I listen when Lisa talks about club stuff. I’m almost one hundred percent certain the blond biker said Merch isn’t sleeping with groupies.
From what Lisa said, the groupies were those heavily tattooed women who glared at Sophie and me during our field trip to the clubhouse to party. They’re like rock band groupies, only for the Wild Hawks. They sleep with members, any members, all members, and they areterritorial.
Lisa also mentioned they cut her pretty badly when she started sleeping with Palmer. She had to go to the hospital, and she still has a scar on her palm. My hands itch, and I ball them into fists. Any woman tries to cut me, and I’m going for their pretty faces. I might be a poor little rich girl, but I will fight dirty. Just try me.
I like the idea of Merch not sleeping with anyone but me. Especially because we had sex without a condom last night. I was going to call him out, but I was angry and horny, and it just happened.
I’m on birth control, so I don’t need to worry about Plan B or anything. I was going to try to have an awkward conversation about … other things you use protection to avoid… but I guess if he’s not actually sleeping with anyone else, we can skip that.
I like the sound of that. Merch not sleeping with anyone but me. And he said I can call him Daniel if I wanted to. No one else calls him Daniel. I remember how his pupils dilated, and he wanted to sleep with me this morning when I called him Daniel.
Hmm. Maybe I should try it tonight. Merch suits him. I like calling him Merch. But I think… maybe… I’ll call him Daniel sometimes when we are alone. I think he’d like that.
So, if I’m not sleeping with anyone else, and he’s not sleeping with anyone else…are we exclusive? Shit. I’m not about to push him on that. I’m also going to stop overthinking this. My mind is going a mile a minute, and I’m not savoring our date. What if it’s the only one I get?
Just as I open my mouth to speak with him – so our date isn’t totally silent – Merch shoves his plate away, dropping some cash on the table and standing.
I look up in surprise, but he grabs my hand, dragging me out of the booth and out of the diner.
I had thought maybe he would take me back to the clubhouse, leave me with Lisa and get back to… whatever he was doing before. But he doesn’t. He takes me back to his apartment, tumbling me onto his squashy couch and coming down on top of me.
“Mmmm,” I moan as his hand plunges down my panties, flicking my clit. Merch snickers, his lips at my throat, his tongue darting out and swirling.
I do need to go home at some point, but I don’t want to go right now. This has been kind of… nice. Maybe I’ll try using his name.
“Just like that… Daniel.”
Merch growls at the sound of his name on my lips, his teeth biting down lightly on my neck as he strips my jeans and panties off, his own jeans following.
“Say it again,” he demands, groaning into my neck.
“Daniel,” I whisper, cutting off with a gasp as he plunges into me.
“Again.”
“Daniel.”
Oh, god. My head tips back as he sets a punishing pace. I think he gets off on my saying his name. I keep murmuring it, getting lost in the sensations.
MERCH
